


Closer

by Jya



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Drinking, Friendship, Implied Sexual Content, Light Angst, M/M, Mostly Canon?, Sexual Tension, Wine, Years Later
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-30
Updated: 2016-09-30
Packaged: 2018-08-18 18:56:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8172352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jya/pseuds/Jya
Summary: Sitting at a hotel bar, Oikawa runs into the last person he'd expect. Drunk conversations ensue.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This just popped into my head after hearing Chainsmokers 'Closer' too many times at work. I just pictured Oikawa looking pretty at a hotel bar.

“Good evening, sir. Would you like something to drink?”

Oikawa studied the bartender. His dark hair perfectly slicked back, not a hair out of place, his long sleeved black dress shirt tucked into his tight fitting black dress pants, the only dash of light was a chestnut brown belt donned with a polished silver buckle. His sleeves were slightly rolled up, showing off his muscular forearms which matched a wide set jaw and thick neck, indicating his obvious dedication to his fitness. His tone was professional, but he sounded bored as he spoke to Oikawa, no doubt wishing his male patron would hurry up and order something so he could return to the group of giggling, overdressed females situated at the end of the bar.

“A Manhattan with a lemon rind, please,” Oikawa finally replied.

“You got it,” he said, turning away from Oikawa.

He sighed to himself, leaning forward and loosening the black tie around his neck. It had been a long day of travel and meetings, and while his teal dress shirt still looked pristine, it was beginning to feel soggy and suffocating. He undid the top button, but kept it close so he still looked mostly professional. Glancing to the opposite end of the bar, he swore the volume of the music had increased, though he supposed it would make sense at a hotel bar at 10pm on a Friday night.

The bar was called ‘Curve’ which he supposed got its name from the odd shape of the bar, though he wasn’t sure he’d call it curve rather than something along the lines of ‘Awkward Crescent Moon’ or ‘Wave’. Curve just sounded so much like the parts of a woman that straight men were so brutally attracted to. Though when he thought about it, the curves on a man were definitely not all bad, as long as they weren’t primarily focused around the abdomen.

He pulled out his phone and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. He’d been ignoring his phone all day, having been rushed all over the place. He wished he could say he’d missed out on more messages, but he wasn’t the most popular person these days, and his only string of texts were all from Iwaizumi.

He glanced up as he heard the unmistakable sounds of ice hitting metal. The bartender was making a show of preparing his drink, though he kept peering down the bar at the girls rather than making any sort of eye contact with him. Oikawa smirked as the man poured a shot of rye from a two foot distance above the martini shaker. Lucky for him none of the girls were watching as he spilled half of it on his hand. Oikawa snickered, and the bartender, having realized Oikawa was watching, poured a second shot, this time from a much more reasonable height.

“Manhattan,” he said, placing the martini glass in front of Oikawa atop a square napkin. There was a hint of distaste in his voice, though Oikawa wasn’t sure if he was bitter just because he’d caught the man’s bartending mistake, or because he simply was a man himself, rather than a woman, obviously the gender he preferred.

“Thanks,” Oikawa said.

The man nodded at him and turned away.

He took a sip of his drink, tasting the expensive alcohol and for a split second, wondering about what it was going to cost him, but that feeling was quickly overrun as a warm tingling sensation spread throughout his body, all the way down his legs. He hadn’t eaten in hours; this drink was going to hit him hard.

“Oikawa… san”

He turned quickly at the distantly sound of name. Thankfully he’d swallowed his drink or he likely would have spat it all over the place. He almost choked on his own saliva, but quickly managed to recover his poise.

“Kageyama Tobio. It’s been a while,” Oikawa said, once again finding the buoyancy in his voice.

“Four years,” Kageyama replied.

The man who stood in front of him was just that – a man. The last time he’d seen Tobio was when he’d snuck into the gym to watch him play in the prefectural finals against Shiratorizawa in his own last year of high school. Now, here in front of him, was no longer a high school student. He hadn’t grown much in height, but his body had filled out. His shoulders were broader, his arms more muscular, and his hair longer. There was no other way to put it. He looked good.

“I saw you from across the room. I wasn’t sure if it was really you.”

“It’s me. Have a seat,” Oikawa said, gesturing to the seat beside him.

Kageyama dropped his satchel on the ground as he pulled the stool beside Oikawa out. He too looked like he’d had a long a day, his navy blue dress shirt slightly untucked, his top two buttons undone giving Oikawa a glimpse of his black tank top underneath. His tie, had he been wearing one, was obviously long forgotten. He dropped his suit jacket over the back of his chair as he turned to the bartender.

Oikawa, feeling as though he may need the extra liquid courage, quickly slammed the rest of his drink, depositing his empty martini glass back on the bar.

“What can I get you,” the bartender asked in a far more casual tone than he’d originally used with Oikawa.

“Red wine, please,” Kageyama replied, rather confidently, as Oikawa noted.

“Any preference? Merlot? Cab Sav?”

“Either is fine,” he said indifferently.

“Glass?”

“Make it a bottle,” Oikawa said, pushing his empty martini glass toward the bar tender.

The man raised an eyebrow at him, then quickly nodded, swiping the empty glass away as he placed two large red wine glasses in front of them and turned away.

“I would never have taken you for a wine drinker,” Oikawa said, nodding at the glasses.

“I don’t drink a lot. And beer is full of calories.”

Oikawa laughed at this. Spoken like a true athlete.

The bartender returned with the bottle of wine, showing it to both of them before expertly removing the cork and pouring a small amount into Kageyama’s glass. Kageyama picked it up, swirled the contents, smelled it, and sipped it. He nodded to the bartender who proceeded to fill both glasses before placing the bottle in a basket between them.

“I know nothing about wine. Sorry if it sucks,” Kageyama said once the bartender had retreated to the estrogen filled end of the bar.

Oikawa eyed the bottle; it’s presence making this feel much more like a date that he would have liked. But he shrugged it off before taking a sip of the wine. He had never been much of a red drinker, always preferring the crisp coolness of white, but this was incredibly full bodied and filled with notes of dark fruits and chestnut.

“I heard you moved to America,” Oikawa finally said as Kageyama sipped his drink.

“I did. I finished school though; I’ve been back about 6 months.”

“I’m surprised I never heard whisper of your name.”

“I haven’t been doing much. Just working for the most part,” he said, not sounding entirely truthful. “What about you?”

“I hung up the knee pads for good after my second year in university,” Oikawa said, knowing exactly what Kageyama was looking for.

“You’re kidding,” Kageyama said, looking completely taken aback. “Why?”

“My body couldn’t handle it anymore,” he said, pulling his elbows up onto the bar and slouching forward, glancing down at his fingers. “I’d overworked myself for too long and my knee finally gave out.”

“Shit,” Kageyama said, taking another sip from his glass.

“It was difficult to accept in the beginning, but I’m over it. I just finished my degree in athletic therapy and sports management and I have a job, so I’m keeping busy.” He sounded more sure of his words than he felt. Being around Kageyama rekindled the competitive spirit that had driven him to be better, and now he just felt hallow.

“I see,” Kageyama said, sounding speechless. “So you don’t play at all anymore?”

“I coach, but no, I’m not on a team.” Oikawa took a long drink from his wine glass, feeling awkward in the silence. Kageyama nearly drained his as well.

“How was America?” He finally asked, grabbing the wine bottle and refilling Kageyama’s glass.

“The volleyball was good. Everything else kind of sucked. The language barrier was difficult. I never really made much in the way of friends.” It was Kageyama’s turn to avert his glance away from Oikawa, glancing down at his own hands which were clasped in front of him.

“Well you never were much of a social butterfly,” Oikawa laughed, setting the bottle back down, both glasses full once more. “Yet somehow you never hesitated when asking me for help.”

“I always knew how to talk to people when it came to volleyball. I just don’t really have anything else to talk about.”

Oikawa laughed at that.

“But I couldn’t have been that good at communicating. You still hated me.”

“I didn’t hate you,” Oikawa said, taking a healthy sip of his wine. He could feel his inhibitions disappearing with his sobriety. “I was jealous of you. I thought you knew.”

“Is that what is was?” Kageyama looked genuinely surprised to hear it. It didn’t come as a huge shock to Oikawa, seeing as how off the court Kageyama was not the smartest person around.

“Look at it from my perspective. I spent years honing my skills, learning to be the best I could be, beating myself to the point of exhaustion and injury, and then some kid walks in with all the talent in the world, someone who had already accomplished nearly everything I’d worked for without even trying. Everything came so easy to you.”

“It’s not like I didn’t train just as hard,” Kageyama said defensively. “You were still better than me though.”

“I felt like I’d maxed out my potential though, like I couldn’t get any better. I had a coach call me an idiot for thinking that. He was right, but anyway, that’s was my issue back in high school.”

“People always called me a genius, but you still had something I didn’t. You were able to bring 100% out of every player you played with.” Kageyama said, his glass nearly empty again.

Oikawa was almost certain that they wouldn’t be having this conversation if they were both sober.

Something about the way Kageyama sat at the bar, both elbows on the counter, large hands circling the base of his wine glass. It made him look younger, and despite his increase in size, it made him look just as Oikawa remembered him. He’d always been a bit insecure in some way, though most people never managed to see it; all the ever saw was the cocky, arrogant setter. Maybe the fact that he too, was cocky and arrogant gave him an ability to see deeper into Kageyama.  

“It was just a matter of getting to know another player. You always did well with the shrimp, didn’t you?”

“He was basic as hell. He’d never played with a setter before so it was more like I was able to engineer him into the spiker I wanted,” Kageyama admitted with a slight grin on his face.

Oikawa laughed again.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Can I say no?” Kageyama asked, sounding far less constrained than he had before he’d finished his second glass of wine. Kageyama was drinking this stuff like juice, and Oikawa was forcing himself to keep up.

He grabbed the bottle again, filling both their glasses again, pouring the last few drops into Kageyama’s glass. “Nope.”

“Fine, shoot.”

“Did anything ever happen between you and the shrimp? Romantically, I mean.”

Kageyama’s face turned red, though Oikawa imagined it could have just been the alcohol. “Not really.”

“Go on…”

“Well it felt like something could have been starting, but then I left for America. I wasn’t about to make him wait for me to come back. He’s dating Kenma now anyway so that ship has sailed.”

“Damn Tobio-chan. It took you that long to realize your feelings hey?” He’d always thought the two had interesting chemistry, but he wasn’t about to say it out loud, then or now.

“I guess so. It doesn’t really matter now. He’s happy and that’s what matters.”

Oikawa wasn’t in the mood for sappy feelings, so he returned his attention to his glass.

“What about you? Did anything happen between you and Iwaizumi-san?”

“Eh, we tried it for a little while, but he’s too much of a mom. We’re better off friends. We live together, but I think he’s seeing a girl right now.”

“So you aren’t seeing anyone right now?” Kageyama asked, his cheeks definitely growing redder this time.

“No Tobio-chan, I’m not. But I’m not sure I’ve had enough to drink for you to be looking at me that way,” Oikawa said. He could feel the volume of his voice increasing, but he was also growing warmer.

 _It’s just the alcohol,_ he told himself. It was usually the alcohol. But it had been so long since he’d been with someone that wasn’t just a random hook up. The idea of being with someone that he knew previously scared him.

But Kageyama did look good. Really good.

Kageyama turned away and downed the rest of his wine. He flagged the bartender.

Oikawa smiled and shook his head, finishing his own wine.

“Two tequila shots,” Kageyama ordered.

“Make it four,” Oikawa echoed.

The bartender raised his eyebrows at Oikawa, who simply shot the expression right back at him. “Top shelf please!” He said as the bartender turned away.

“One of those _was_ for you, you know,” Kageyama said.

“I know.”

The four shots appeared in front of them, and before Kageyama had even reached for his, Oikawa had tossed both his back, completely ignoring the lime and salt.

By now, Kageyama had his first in his hand. “Cheers,” he almost sneered, throwing his own back.

Oikawa pulled is glasses off his face and dropped them on the bar, rubbing his eyes and running a hand through his hair.

“Did you always wear glasses?” Kageyama asked, sucking on the lime following both shots.

“Yeah,” he rubbed his eyes. “I usually wear contacts.”

“They look good on you,” Kageyama said quietly.

“Oh my God. Enough. Alright look… Bartender!” He called, pulling his wallet out of his pocket. The bartender turned and took his card, handing him a receipt shortly after. Oikawa scribbled a tip and signature on the receipt and handed it back, taking his card back.

“Take this. Room 813. Give me 10 minutes,” Oikawa said, dropping his room key in front of Kageyama, hopping off the stool and turning to leave.

Why he’d put both room keys in his wallet, he’d never know. But there were more pressing questions on his mind right now.

*~*~*~*~*

“Wow,” Oikawa said, dropping himself back into the soft white linens, unsure of exactly what he was ‘wow’ing. He’d just don’t the unthinkable, but his mind was spinning far too quickly to really comprehend anything at the moment.

“Wow is right,” Kageyama replied, leaning forward, pulling the sheets up around his waist.

“So wait, you never told me why you were here in Tokyo,” Oikawa said.

“Um, some Volleyball thing,” Kageyama said noncommittally. “What about you?”

“I got invited by the trainer of the under 25 national team. He’s one of the professors that works in my faculty. He said he had some young setter they want me to work with. They’re calling him a genius – wait…”

Kageyama turned his head, wide-eyed to Oikawa.

“ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?!”

~*~*~*~*~


End file.
